King of York
by Scorching Streaks of Paint
Summary: New York is a popular state in the US. However, it takes a lot of effort to become one of the best. (Historic-Hetalia)
1. Civil War

_Middle of Civil War_

* * *

><p>Nothing is perfect. New York knew that well, for if everything was perfect, then he would not be there. He would not be fighting THEM, the ones he cared about the most.<p>

On his left, New Jersey and South Dakota were fighting. Blood caked their tattered clothing as they punched the living daylights out of themselves. On New York's right, he saw Maryland cowering in a miniscule ditch, cradling his head. Poor Maryland was torn between destroying the Yankees and killing the Confederates. He was one of many that couldn't decide which side to fight for.

New York knew that the war was just beginning. He knew that their was going to be major consequences even after all of the bloodshed has disappeared. He could feel his people demand harsh consequences to befall on his siblings. New York's people wanted more blood. They wanted vengeance.

The state didn't want to start this war, but his Northern siblings demanded him to. After all, he had the largest city in America. He also had the most supplies, so he was very useful in the war.

If New York was perfect, then he would've been able to stop the war from starting. If New York was perfect, then he would be able to stop his siblings from fighting. If New York was perfect, then he would not be bathing in the blood and gore of the fallen.

No, he was not perfect for he lied on the battlefield of life, liberty and happiness.

Nothing is perfect because he sees the corrupt figures of warriors from the past, present, and future.

"I'm crazy," New York muttered as he stood up to shoot. Maryland whimpered in agreement before passing out from sheer exhaustion of his mental debate. New York glanced at his fallen frenemy and grimaced at the reminder of what war has done to them. He heard South Dakota knock New Jersey out and turn toward him. New York could feel his brother's menacing glare as he raised his fist to strike New York's face.

New York quickly turned around and caught SD's fist. South Dakota's eyes widened before they turned into narrow slits. With a growl, the state tackled the other to the ground and pulled out his knife with his free hand. New York rapidly punched his sibling in the face, disorienting him enough to roll out from under him. However, South Dakota quickly recovered and lunged for New York again, but New York seemed to have disappeared into the mists of the battle.

In reality, New York was hiding in another ditch not far away from the one he had been in. Tears welled up in his eyes from the mental strain and the physical pain. The state curled up into a ball and imagined a perfect land.

The Land of the Free.


	2. Thy Hatred Within

_Alternate Timeline: After Civil War; Confederates Won_

* * *

><p>The older state snarled and leapt at the bars of his cage. His weight punched the metal pipes, making them rattle in their holes, but they did not budge. The state's body fell down in recoil of the attack. His salty tears stung the corners of his eyes as they started to collect. He gritted his teeth in pain, but it was more from the emotional anguish than the physical one.<p>

The elder state had misjudged the tinier one. The tiny state had looked harmless at first, so the elder had made the mistake of pitying him and taking him under his wing. Now, the elder regrets putting himself high up on the tree of power for he has fallen a great height.

He should have not looked down upon Mississippi. He should have not underestimated him. But, how could the elder have known better? After all, the child was not quite as old as the elder. The child was not quite as tall as him. The child was not quite as strong as him. The child was not quite as old as him. But the elder should have known better. He had seen first hand at what tiny states could do to their mentors.

The child had grown at a rapid rate, claiming most of the elder's land in the process during the war. A lot of states had cryed out in protest, but none could have fought against him. The child had grown stronger, stronger than New York could handle. Stronger than most of the states could handle. Hell, even Spain and England had trouble handling the narcisstic state.

New York snarled once more and tackled the sharp metal strands, ignoring the blistering pain that came with the action. The state felt delirious for a couple of nanoseconds before rapidly banging the bars.

The elder state had misjudged the tiny bird. He had mocked him like a mocking jay would. New York had jabbed at the child, making the younger one bristle at every malicious comment the elder made. With every obnoxious laugh, with every sneer, with every rotten smirk, he had drove the child to ultimately despise and attack him.

And now the elder regretted all of the harrassment that had descended upon the boy, for he was paying for his crimes.

Alone in a dank, underground cell, New York was forced to endure the agony of being alone. Even though the other states had hurt the boy just as much, apparently the elder was the one who caused the most trauma. The elder had no idea where the other imprisoned states were, but he assumed that they were given a better life than him.

New York did not realize that someone had been watching him battle against the iron bars until he heard someone clap slowly to the side of him. The elder glowered in the direction of the sound, but he could not see the creator of said sound. The area was incased in darkness, making it almost completely impossible to see anything. The only thing New York could see was the glinting bars in the dull light that was coming from the crack of the dungeon door.

The person who made the noise stepped forward, revealing himself in the light. The state had a messy mop of chocolate brown hair. A wayward cowlick leaned to one side while the rest of his hair pointed in opposite directions. His forest green combat suit stood out among the pitch blackness of the room. New York hissed quietly as he backed away from the bars of the cage. The elder knew the person that was coated in shadows. He knew that person well.

He knew that the person was smirking devilishly as the person approached the bars, tapping a stolen sword- Virginia's sword- along the metal. New York narrowed his eyes and crouched down in an attempt to see where the devil had hidden the keys this time. Unfortunately, the elder could not spot his only possible savior, for he was distracted by the mocking sound of His voice. Oh, how delicious irony is.

"How ya hangin' 'York?" Mississippi drawled out, mocking New York's vocabulary and accent. New York gave him his infamous sneer before spitting onto the child's boots (Or what the elder thought were boots). The child frowned in disdain.

"Still disrespectin' your superiors, I see." The elder's sneer deepened.

"You didn' earn my respect, ya loser." Mississippi scowled at the comment and kicked the bars, making them shake in their holes. New York smirked slightly.

"In fact, I bet ya didn't even get to California yet. Lousiana was alway' better at getting land compared to ya, ya idiot." The elder let out a cry of surprise as Mississippi plunged the sword forward, stabbing New York right above his liver. A gush of blood re-coated the blood stains on the state's Prussian blue coat, dying the gold trims crimson. New York's sneer was gone, replaced by gawking eyes and a surprised look on his face. It wasn't like the child to lose control of his impulses. He  
>preferred to jab at his victims like so many had done to him.<p>

Lousiana must be winning the war for land, the elder thought. New York's smile widened, seeing the opportunity to hurt the child more.

"Aww, is someone losing to little wittle Lousie~?" Now it was Mississippi's turn to snarl as he thrusted his sword through the bars again, this time making sure not to withdraw his sword from the bleeding wound.

"SHUT UP," screeched the child," I'm WINNIN' the war, you stupid asshole, and don't you forget that. After all, I beat you and now I have more land."

"No, ya're winning the battles. Battles don't neccesarily win wars, child." New York screamed as Mississippi dragged the sword downward a couple of inches. The elder could see the corners of his vision begin to fade. With one motion, the sword was out of the elder's person and back into the child's pocket. "Virginia" was written in thread along the sword's sheath.

"Have fun dying, ol' man," was Mississippi's last words before he retreated to his light-filled sanctuary, leaving the elder alone again. New York wheezed a couple of times, making blood pour out of his lips and fall onto the dusty floor. The elder knew that either he would die from blood loss or infections from the dank basement or both.

It took a few minutes, but it happened eventually. The elder's vision began to fade, mold itself into the darkness of the basement. New York thought he saw a shadow skitter across him, but found out that it was only a rat. It watched him with it's beady eyes as the state's life began to slip away.

'Oh well,' New York pondered to himself as he slipped into the relaxing sleep his body desired,' At least I had the chance to be king...'


	3. To Take and Never Give

_After Revolutionary War: New York Claiming the Western Territory Without Abiding the Constitution_

* * *

><p>New York knew it was a bad idea. He knew he would get in trouble for it later. He knew that his punishment would be less than desirable. Netherless, he did it. And now, he was at the State Court, awaiting his jurisdiction. What had gone wrong? He had pondered.<p>

He was the strongest out of all of the States. He had the most muscle, the most technology, and the best people who had ever roamed the planet (though Massachusetts says otherwise...). Alas, everyone disliked him and his erratic behavior.

It wasn't like he was a Lobsterback- no, he'd NEVER be one of them- and he wasn't that bad at cooking. The state considered himself to be completely different from Britain and his "Satanic" empire. He always wore blue and gold, no matter what was the occaision. However, New York... sort of... LIKED the British clothing and he... REALLY couldn't control his preferences.

So, New York wore Britain's style of clothing with blue and gold. That was where he drew the line at resemblances. New York swore that he would never, ever be like England. NEVER. EVER. But, his "siblings" begged to differ.

They said that he was biggoted like England. They said that he had horrid food like England. They said that he had a similar personality to England's. They even said that he had the same wild hairdo that England has. Well, you could say that New York blew a gasket. He threw tantrums, demanded things in court, even challenged SPAIN for egg-cake's sake!

In the end, when he "found out" that his "brothers" and "sisters" didn't care, New York went out to search for more siblings. It had been easy.

At first, he... *cough* "found" Virginia's little sister, West Virginia, and claimed her as his own. This made Virginia pissed and that brought on New York a lot of pain. Right after he "found" WV and started claiming more land, Virginia was EVERYWHERE. Even when younger state claimed Illinois, he was there, with his oily black hair reflecting New York's distraught face (YES, it's THAT oily).

Even though New York was *considered* to be the strongest, it didn't mean that he had good strategies. Oh no, those were positively horrid. So horrid that they were easily outmatched by Virginia, the cleverest of the States.

New York didn't stand a chance.

And now, the state was standing there, awaiting his verdict after attempting to rule over all of the States. Nasty glares were sent his way he limped toward the judge with a grim look. His blue cap was still perched on top of his head, but it did not shine the way it used to. It was matted and tattered, just like the rest of his clothing. The Prussian blue was now a silvery gray with blemishes of mud and crimson. The neon yellow was now a tarnished gold, if there was any yellow at all around the edges.

New York grimaced as he heard the gavel pound on the miniscule piece of wood. The judge declared his punishment to the crowd, and the crowd booed. The guilty State's eyes widened as he gawked at his smirking defender before narrowing his eyes at the elder.

Oh, the clever bastard.

New York cursed Virginia as he was dragged away, to be the eldest State's slave for three years.


End file.
